


Father's Day

by dawnperhaps



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-18
Updated: 2012-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-16 13:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/539877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dawnperhaps/pseuds/dawnperhaps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>God invites his four oldest over for some much needed bonding time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Father's Day

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Chuck on Father's Day. Happy Father’s Day, God! Not so cute when they get older, unfortunately.

To some extent, every day in Heaven is Father’s Day.  Chuck rarely has time to spend with his children now that he’s become engrossed in his latest project, but his children are constantly at worship, prayers of thanksgiving and honor floating through his door constantly.  The other angels aren’t old enough to do more than sing his praises, still nothing more than small spots of light floating in Heaven.  If everything goes according to plan, those small spots will soon become angels, smaller and less powerful than his first four, with two fewer sets of wings.  Michael and Lucifer grew into their three pairs of wings handsomely, but Gabriel continues to trip over them, still too little to fly, and Raphael occasionally has difficultly managing all of them while he’s in the air.  He thinks one set will be less of a hassle for the newer angels.

While the angels honor him daily, today is different.  Earlier in the week, Chuck requested that his oldest children, the archangels, pay him a visit and update him on the status of Heaven.  Michael had frowned at that, as he updates God daily on the status of Heaven, but his frown had shifted to a look of intrigue when Chuck suggested that they could also share a meal together.  In all honesty, although Chuck is calling it ‘Father’s Day,’ the event is more for the sake of the archangels than for Chuck himself.

Michael, naturally, is the first of his sons to wander back into his office, announcing himself with a soft cautious knock on the door.  Chuck has never snapped at any of his children for interrupting him while he’s working, but he still hears Michael vehemently insisting to the others that their father must be given space to work.

“Come in,” Chuck calls, smiling when the door creeks open and a small figure steps over the threshold.  Michael is sweet, obedient and eager to please, and he always approaches with respect and a quiet enthusiasm.

“Hello, Father,” Michael greets him, hovering by the door.

Chuck offers him an encouraging smile.  “I said ‘come in,’ Michael, not ‘stand at attention.’”

Michael’s eyes widen and he hurriedly crosses the room.  His nose is just barely visible over the top of Chuck’s desk and he circles around the side in order to be seen.  It’s then that Chuck sees the paper that Michael holds in his hands, clutched tightly to his chest.

“I drew you something,” Michael explains, although he makes no move to present his work.  Michael spends most of his time training now, eager to become to warrior that God intended him to be, but he has always enjoyed drawing.  Chuck is pleased to see that he still finds time to do so.

“Can I see?” Chuck asks, holding out his hand.  His oldest, strong and independent in most respects, has always been a little skittish about these kinds of things.  He simultaneously longs for approval and fears disappointment, which leads to many pictures and other little presents being created, but few making it into Chuck’s hands.  He isn’t sure what leads Michael to act this way, but he sometimes worries that he burdens his oldest with too many responsibilities and frowns too easily when things aren’t done perfectly.

Even so, Michael holds out his drawing, his eyes trained on his father’s face as Chuck gingerly takes it from his hand.  It’s beautifully painted, if a little strange, and Michael shifts anxiously on his feet when Chuck tilts his head at the drawing.  It’s some sort of creature, brown and furry instead of feathery, with tiny ears and a long tail that looks like flattened leather.  It’s sitting beside one of the rivers that Chuck once described to Michael, although he has yet to move his plans into the construction process.

“It’s an animal,” Michael quickly explains, wringing his tiny hands.  “For Earth.”

“You thought up your own animal?” Chuck exclaims, pleased at his oldest’s ambition.

Michael smiles hesitantly, then, nodding and circling the desk to point out the various features of his creation.  “It lives on the rivers with its family and it builds its home out of mud and sticks.  That’s what this is for,” he says as he points to the tail.  “To pat down all the mud.”

“They sound like very hard workers,” Chuck says fondly.

“They are,” Michael says fervently.  “They work really hard for their families.”

Chuck puts a hand on top of Michael’s dark head, ruffling his hair.  “They must get very tired.”

“No, no, they don’t mind!” Michael tells him, staring down at his furry little construction.  “They love their families.  They want to do anything they can.”

Chuck pauses at that, regarding Michael’s earnest expression carefully.  “What do you call it?” he finally asks.

“I didn’t think about a name,” Michael tells him.  “I didn’t know if you’d like it.”

“I love it,” he says, and Michael lights up, his fluffy white wings beating happily behind him.  Chuck laughs and puts a hand on Michael’s shoulder, drawing him into a one-armed hug.  Michael’s little arms hug him back tightly.

“What do you think of the name ‘ _Castor canadensis’_?” Chuck asks, placing Michael’s drawing on his desk and staring at it thoughtfully.  Michael releases him and stares up at him with a slightly confused gaze.

“Beaver, for short?” Chuck offers, and Michael smiles his approval.

A loud knock interrupts the moment, obnoxious and long, the rapping ceasing after about ten noisy thumps.  Michael looks horrified, probably suffering secondhand embarrassment at his siblings’ complete lack of poise and respect, but Chuck only invites them in, patting Michael’s shoulder reassuringly.

Raphael appears first, which is strange because he’s the quietest of the four and has never knocked so obnoxiously, but as he steps through the door, Chuck spots Gabriel on his back and the mystery is solved.  Gabriel and Raphael are both smiling, despite the fact that Gabriel appears to be choking the older angel, his arms wrapped tightly around Raphael’s neck.  Raphael’s arms are looped around Gabriel’s legs, holding him up.  There is no way that Raphael can fly with Gabriel flattening his wings the way he is, but they both look content having walked.

“Father,” Raphael says respectfully, smiling over his shoulder when Gabriel exclaims, “Daddy!”  The youngest archangel’s eyes soon fall on Michael, however, and his eyes light up even more.  Gabriel digs his heels into Raphael’s sides, asking to be put down, and Raphael kneels to let him drop to the ground.  Gabriel immediately sprints across the room and collides with Michael, who easily catches him and lifts him onto his hip.

“Michael, I flew today,” Gabriel tells him proudly.  Michael looks surprised, turning to Raphael for confirmation.

Raphael smiles weakly.  “Well.  Kind of.  It was more like really graceful falling.”

“I hurt my wing, but Raph fixed it,” Gabriel continues, looking to God this time to see his reaction to Raphael’s skills.

Chuck has to admit that he’s a bit surprised.  He always intended for Raphael to be a healer, but never thought those abilities would develop so early.  “Is that so, Raphael?”

“It wasn’t that impressive,” Raphael tries to say, wrapping his wings around himself.  “It was just a little scrape.”

“It was a huge scrape!” Gabriel exclaims, annoyed to have his praise undermined by the very angel he was trying to praise.

“I’m not proud of it, Father, I promise,” Raphael insists.

Chuck chuckles, understanding the fledgling’s concern.  “You can be proud to an extent, Raphael,” he tells him.  He reaches out and lifts one of Gabriel’s wings to inspect it.  Gabriel twists his head around, frowning as his wing is pulled in different directions, but he doesn’t seem injured or even uncomfortable.

“You did well,” God concludes, and Raphael’s Grace swells with contentment, although his face betrays little.  Chuck catches his tiny smile when he ducks his head, however, and thinks that, perhaps, he doesn’t check in with Raphael enough.

“I got you a flower,” Gabriel announces.

“Thank you,” Chuck says indulgently.  After a moment of watching Gabriel absentmindedly play with Michael’s wings, it becomes clear that the angel isn’t going to be handing him the flower.  Chuck gently adds, “Where is it?”

“I left it in the Garden,” Gabriel tells him, as if it’s obvious.  “When you pick flowers, they die.”

Chuck supposes he’s grateful for Gabriel’s respect for life, however misplaced, but Michael and Raphael exchange an exasperated glance.

“Where’s Lucifer?” Chuck finally asks.

“I don’t know,” Michael admits, and Raphael shakes his head.

“I delivered your message about meeting with you today,” Gabriel informs him, lifting a hand in a mock salute.  Michael sighs in aggravation, but holds the smaller angel closer, and Chuck can sense the affection in Michael’s Grace.  Gabriel, for whatever reason, turned out a little louder and more excitable than his other angels, but he’s endearing in his own right.  Chuck does hope, however, that this particular trait doesn’t occur in too many of the new angels.  He’ll be in desperate need of a vacation.

There’s no knock when the door opens the next time, but Chuck hadn’t really expected one.  Light yellowish wings appear first as Lucifer backs into the room, closing the door behind him with his foot.  His hands are cupped together and he stares down at them cautiously, as if protecting something very delicate between them.

“Lucifer,” Chuck greets fondly, his smile growing when Lucifer looks up with a bright smile, his Grace uniquely dazzling.  Chuck hates to admit that Lucifer is the most impressive of his creations, not as powerful as Michael will someday be, but incredibly beautiful and luminous.  Chuck has taken to calling him the Morningstar, thinking of fashioning a planet in his image.  Not that he’d ever tell Lucifer that he’s something of an inspiration; he borders on insufferable at times already.

“Father,” Lucifer says with a courteous nod.  He passes the other angels to climb up onto God’s knee, using his wings to lift him while his hands are occupied.

“What do you have there?” Chuck asks.

“A present,” Lucifer says enthusiastically.  “I made it.”

“Let’s see.”

Lucifer holds his hands closer to Chuck’s face and opens them to reveal a very small, white crystal, arranged into a eight perfect points, the center an intricately weaved pattern.  It’s small, but beautiful, and Chuck holds out his hand to gingerly cradle it.  It’s cold against his palm, twinkling as it catches the light.

“Let me see!” Gabriel insists, still tucked into Michael’s side.

“Wait your turn,” Lucifer tells him, sticking his tongue out when Gabriel pouts at him.

“Lucifer, this is amazing,” Chuck exclaims, straining to take in all the little details.  After a moment, he holds it out for the other three to examine.  Raphael and Michael seem charmed, but Gabriel only snorts.

“It’s not that cool,” Gabriel scoffs.  “It’s so little.”

“You’re little,” Michael points out, and seems confused when Gabriel looks offended.

“It’s called a snowflake,” Lucifer informs the room, sticking his nose in the air.  Chuck sets the crystal in a dish next to Michael’s painting, smiling when Raphael walks around the other side of the desk and stands up on his tiptoes to get a better look at it.  Chuck hadn’t anticipated his children wanting to help with the design of Earth, but he’s pleased that they’re interested.  He hopes that means that they’ll accept their new jobs with dignity.

“What are you working on, Father?” Lucifer asks eventually, his eyes drawn down to the sketches in Chuck’s book.

“A new world,” Chuck explains.  “With new creatures.  Creatures you will be able to watch over and protect.”  He doesn’t think anything of Lucifer’s confused frown, fingering the edge of one of the pages of his drawing book, proud of his work.  “It’s still just an idea, though.”

“But we’re your favorite, right?” Lucifer asks, looking heartbroken at the prospect that he might have to share God’s affection.

“You’re my children,” Chuck says, resting his hand on top of Lucifer’s head.  “I’ll always love you.”

“We love you, too, Father,” Michael promises, speaking for all of them.  Raphael smiles brightly in agreement and Lucifer seems appeased for the time being.

“Can we see your drawings?” Gabriel demands after a moment, eyes lighting up with curiosity and excitement.

“Gabriel,” Michael scolds, frowning up at him while Gabriel looks at him in surprise.  Raphael ducks his head again, as if in apology for not being able to teach Gabriel to hold his tongue at the appropriate moments.

“No, no, it’s alright,” Chuck assures them, petting Lucifer’s wings when the angel rests his head on his shoulder, settling in for a story.  Chuck flips through his papers, returning to the first page, covered in scrawling script and accompanied by a hastily drawn sketch.  He tips the drawing down to show his children, smiling when Michael and Raphael gape in wonder and Gabriel and Lucifer’s eyes light up in fascination.  Lucifer takes the drawing to examine it closer and Chuck turns back to his writing, the angels gathered around his chair.

“I’m calling this the Big Bang…”

 


End file.
